For we, by rightful doom remediless, Were lost in death, till he, that dwelt above And that great covenant which we still transgress And the full wrath beside Of vengeful justice bore for our excess, And seals obedience first with wounding smart This day; but oh! ere long, Huge pangs and strong Will pierce more near his heart. 20 THE PASSION. I. EREWHILE of music, and ethereal mirth, Wherewith the stage of Air and Earth did ring, But headlong joy is ever on the wing, In wintry solstice like the shortened light Soon swallowed up in dark and long outliving night. II. For now to sorrow must I tune my song, And set my harp to notes of saddest woe, Which on our dearest Lord did seize ere long, Dangers, and snares, and wrongs, and worse than so, Most perfect Hero, tried in heaviest plight Of labours huge and hard, too hard for human wight! ΙΟ III. He, sovran Priest, stooping his regal head, His starry front low-roofed beneath the skies: Yet more: the stroke of death he must abide; IV. These latest scenes confine my roving verse; His godlike acts, and his temptations fierce, Of lute, or viol still, more apt for mournful things. V. Befriend me, Night, best patroness of grief! 20 And work my flattered fancy to belief 30 That heaven and earth are coloured with my woe; The leaves should all be black whereon I write, And letters, where my tears have washed, a wannish white. VI. See, see the chariot, and those rushing wheels, To bear me where the towers of Salem stood, 40 VII. Mine eye hath found that sad sepulchral rock For sure so well instructed are my tears VIII. Or, should I thence, hurried on viewless wing, Might think the infection of my sorrows loud Had got a race of mourners on some pregnant cloud. This Subject the Author finding to be above the years he had when he wrote it, and nothing satisfied with what was begun, left it unfinished. ON TIME. FLY, envious Time, till thou run out thy race: So little is our loss, So little is thy gain! For, whenas each thing bad thou hast entombed, 50 ΙΟ Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss And Joy shall overtake us as a flood; When every thing that is sincerely good And perfectly divine, With Truth, and Peace, and Love, shall ever shine About the supreme throne Of Him, to whose happy-making sight alone When once our heavenly-guided soul shall climb, Attired with stars we shall for ever sit, 20 Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee, O Time! AT A SOLEMN MUSIC. BLEST pair of Sirens, pledges of Heaven's joy, With saintly shout and solemn jubilee; With those just Spirits that wear victorious palms, Singing everlastingly : That we on Earth, with undiscording voice, May rightly answer that melodious noise; ΙΟ As once we did, till disproportioned sin Jarred against nature's chime, and with harsh din To their great Lord, whose love their motion swayed In first obedience, and their state of good. O, may we soon again renew that song, And keep in tune with Heaven, till God ere long To his celestial consort us unite, To live with Him, and sing in endless morn of light 20 SONG ON MAY MORNING. Now the bright morning-star, Day's harbinger, Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire ON SHAKESPEARE. 1630. WHAT needs my Shakespeare for his honoured bones Or that his hallowed reliques should be hid Under a star-ypointing pyramid ? Dear son of memory, great heir of fame, What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name? ΙΟ |